The man hesitated a minute. Then he took the hand. “I should think I could give five hundred dollars’ worth of honesty—and I ’d like to give as much over as I can afford.” He said it lightly. But there was a little ring to the words, and the sullen look had vanished from his face.
“That’s all right,” said John. He nodded and was gone.
The assistant bookkeeper sat staring at the pen in his hand—“A rascal,” he chuckled, “but not a fool rascal!—He said it straight, did n’t he?” He chuckled again. He drew the sheet of paper toward him. Then he looked up as if a sudden thought had struck him—“And he ’s no fool either!” he said slowly. The pen began its letter to the manager of the C. B. and L.
When the letter reached the manager, he threw it on his desk with an exclamation of disgust.
“What’s up?” said the superintendent.
“Harrington.”
“What?”
“Backed out,” said the manager.
“More money?”
“I don’t think so.” He consulted the letter. “Says he’s sick of it—the whole business.”